It's been a week and a half since I left my best friend dog. I have a week and a half left to go. I told him when I left that if I could take him with me I would but unfortunately work did not support this and I didn't think I wanted to have him in an airplane as much as I could help it.
"Now, I have done the very best that I can to get you people to spend time with you, let you out, go for walks. I have Laura and Katie living here. Neither of them are use to you and I know your routine is going to be off, but try your hardest to be on your best behavior so that I still have human friends when I return as well."
His level of listening more often involved chewing on something.
As the time drew closer, as I shoved clothes in a suitcase and our belongings in boxes, I felt guilty for not being able to spend all my time focused on him.
"Orion, I am going to miss you. I wish I could play all day with you but we are moving the day I get back so we have to get this place packed up."
He just did his Orion thing and trotted along behind me, in and out of rooms, toting whatever food treat toy I had given him.
Days drew closer and I became more and more stressed out trying to organize the details.
I laid in bed the day before leaving, curled up next to the boy, ready for bed, "Truth be, I'm nervous about leaving. I like knowing you're around to come home to, to talk to, and I kind of rely on you for my emotional support. I'm use to you. And I'll miss you booger." He continued sleeping. "I'm coming back. Don't go thinking I've abandoned you. I have to go on this trip and then it'll be a little weird because we're moving and getting a housemate... but I think you'll like the housemate, and I think it'll be better for you because you won't have to spend as much time in your crate. You've met Jamie and are fine with her..." Still sleeps.
I call and check in on my friend. She's sounding frazzled. I do my best to explain his behavioral patterns, what he needs to make her life more sane. "Oh, we're getting along fine, I just think you might be a bit of a masocist. Clearly Orion has more energy than I do." I call later, she sounds better. I suspect she will not choose a labrador for her first dog.
I call the second friend a week and a half later, "He's been barking for three hours. I don't know what's wrong."
"He doesn't stay in his crate when people are home. He sleeps with you or roams the house. That's why."
"Huh. Well he's quiet now."
Oh my boy, I think. He must not have listened to all I was saying and is probably all stressed out by all the comings and goings and me not showing up in all of this. Oh dear Orion, I will be home as soon as I can.
But it is just the half way mark today.
Most of the first week I was busy with the bustle of learning, new place, new routine, new time zone, too flipping tired to think of anything else. But now it is the second week and I am thinking about all the patience of my friends taking care of my dog. The schedule of half my colleagues coming by to walk him. Of the friend who's stationed at the apartment for the week.
And I realize, a. I have amazing friends and b. I miss my dog.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
It's a Marvelous night for a Moon Dance
It's a full moon tonight. We pull up to the parallel park job like we're merging on a highway, but the moon captures the show with its large beautiful self rising about the silhouette of a leafless tree up the way. "Wow." I think of my friend in Oregon and wonder if she will share in the gorgeousness a few hours later.
Orion and I scamper up the steps, and I find, though it's only six pm, I'm ready for bed. Pj's on, dog bone for Orion, I watch a tv show cast a lamination into my dark room. Orion moves about the room, couch to bed, bed to couch, chewing his bone, my toes, his antler, his reindeer. I wonder to myself how he has such persistent energy even after our hour walk. Ah to be him. Sleep eight hours a day. Food gifted in the form of toys. Snuggles. Hugs. Told I love you daily. The boy has it made. The girl does too, I think as he lands across my legs all 58 pounds of him.
"Orion it's 8 PM. We could go to sleep." I roll horizontally beside him, throwing an arm over him. "Or, we could go check out that moon." I start singing, "It's a wonderful night for a moon dance..." as if for once, I might actually know the words. I sound Frank Sinatra like. I'm conjuring the spirit, and so I fling my legs over the edge of the bed and will myself up.
Tangled in my toes are leashes I've woven together to extend into the worlds longest Orion leash. "Perfect!" I say, scooping them up to hook them on my boy.
Leash around waist, red light lit around his collar, we are out the door for our moon dance.
I'm spinning circles, arms spread out wide. Pirouettes in the gravel. "Well it's a marvelous night for a moon dance..." Orion is content chasing the constantly moving extendo-leash. Tired, I plunk down in the single chair positioned in the yard. The back gives a little where it's broken and I think of what I would look like, pink plaid legs tossed in the air, likely into dog poo in the pitch black night singing to the full moon. Life is good.
Orion climbs in my lap and I delight for the brief moment he allows the ability to give him hugs and snuggle him closer. "There's your star set Orion," I say, and I tell him again how I choose his name. "It is the only star set I can find no matter where I am, and I moved a lot Orion, so it was a grounding experience to see them always up in the night sky. I figured that would be a great name for my first dog." He listens intently.
"I use to have a friend too who loved to sit out under the full moon. We'd go camping," I say. "Ironic, your stars and that memory side by side." And I pause thinking of the friend long past and how like most things one can apply whatever energy they want to memories, and I smile at that friend and of that time in my life.
Orion climbs off.
"Well, should we just go for a walk?"
Leashes collected, we loop through the front and pop out on the main street. Strutting across the street, I like the image of our shadows stretching out in front of us.
"Oh if I could capture this as a photograph I would dear friend," but instead etch it into the mind, tug his head away from the discarded McDonalds bag and round the corner of the block. We cruise down the street, jerking right to scare a bunny. I note to myself that perhaps my intention for a litter-box trained bunny may indeed be ill conceived with this boy, and bump into our friend Herb, out walking his small dog as well. Herb wishes us a good year, misses a few lines from me with his hard hearing, comments on Orion's "christmas light" and then continues on his way. I enjoy Herb. I enjoy knowing there's a 70 year old guy who gets up and walks his 15 pound dog each and every day and smiles in greeting whenever he sees me. We pass by a house and I think about how I want to own a house. And as we walk along the sidewalk, see the lights flashing in the homes, I am happy. I have my dog. I have my neighborhood. And with the moon shinning, the hour nine o'clock, I figure I can sneak in for bed with a guilt free conscious.
Orion and I scamper up the steps, and I find, though it's only six pm, I'm ready for bed. Pj's on, dog bone for Orion, I watch a tv show cast a lamination into my dark room. Orion moves about the room, couch to bed, bed to couch, chewing his bone, my toes, his antler, his reindeer. I wonder to myself how he has such persistent energy even after our hour walk. Ah to be him. Sleep eight hours a day. Food gifted in the form of toys. Snuggles. Hugs. Told I love you daily. The boy has it made. The girl does too, I think as he lands across my legs all 58 pounds of him.
"Orion it's 8 PM. We could go to sleep." I roll horizontally beside him, throwing an arm over him. "Or, we could go check out that moon." I start singing, "It's a wonderful night for a moon dance..." as if for once, I might actually know the words. I sound Frank Sinatra like. I'm conjuring the spirit, and so I fling my legs over the edge of the bed and will myself up.
Tangled in my toes are leashes I've woven together to extend into the worlds longest Orion leash. "Perfect!" I say, scooping them up to hook them on my boy.
Leash around waist, red light lit around his collar, we are out the door for our moon dance.
I'm spinning circles, arms spread out wide. Pirouettes in the gravel. "Well it's a marvelous night for a moon dance..." Orion is content chasing the constantly moving extendo-leash. Tired, I plunk down in the single chair positioned in the yard. The back gives a little where it's broken and I think of what I would look like, pink plaid legs tossed in the air, likely into dog poo in the pitch black night singing to the full moon. Life is good.
Orion climbs in my lap and I delight for the brief moment he allows the ability to give him hugs and snuggle him closer. "There's your star set Orion," I say, and I tell him again how I choose his name. "It is the only star set I can find no matter where I am, and I moved a lot Orion, so it was a grounding experience to see them always up in the night sky. I figured that would be a great name for my first dog." He listens intently.
"I use to have a friend too who loved to sit out under the full moon. We'd go camping," I say. "Ironic, your stars and that memory side by side." And I pause thinking of the friend long past and how like most things one can apply whatever energy they want to memories, and I smile at that friend and of that time in my life.
Orion climbs off.
"Well, should we just go for a walk?"
Leashes collected, we loop through the front and pop out on the main street. Strutting across the street, I like the image of our shadows stretching out in front of us.
"Oh if I could capture this as a photograph I would dear friend," but instead etch it into the mind, tug his head away from the discarded McDonalds bag and round the corner of the block. We cruise down the street, jerking right to scare a bunny. I note to myself that perhaps my intention for a litter-box trained bunny may indeed be ill conceived with this boy, and bump into our friend Herb, out walking his small dog as well. Herb wishes us a good year, misses a few lines from me with his hard hearing, comments on Orion's "christmas light" and then continues on his way. I enjoy Herb. I enjoy knowing there's a 70 year old guy who gets up and walks his 15 pound dog each and every day and smiles in greeting whenever he sees me. We pass by a house and I think about how I want to own a house. And as we walk along the sidewalk, see the lights flashing in the homes, I am happy. I have my dog. I have my neighborhood. And with the moon shinning, the hour nine o'clock, I figure I can sneak in for bed with a guilt free conscious.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Christmas Spirit
Orion loves to snag this off the table, Kennel Cough and all, and run around the house...
Monday, December 12, 2011
On Point
I come home from work and I'm buzzing. Adrenalyn buzzing. Appointments were behind, phone was ringing off the hook etc. etc. Pulling in a hour later than I should have, I half expected to hear Orion's high pitched barking from the outside of the apartment. "Boy does he know your car," my neighbor once said, as I lept out and commented that Orion never barks. "He hasn't been barking at all till you pulled up." I paused. "Could be cause you can hear my breaks squeak all the way in Texas." The old woman chuckled and went back to rocking in her chair. Tonight though it's quiet. I loop through the door, feel my way through the dark to the switch above his crate.
"How is my boy?" I ask as I watch him lazily move from his curled position in the back of his crate. As he emerges I just can't help but smile at his little Santa kerchief my mom sent in the mail propped sideways on his body.
"Do I get my wookie hello?" He stretches and starts his usual wookie greeting before moseying over to the door to be let out.
Outside it's quiet, the kind of quiet that makes me think I am the sole person awake on the planet. The moon has a hazy cloud dulling it's brightness, the stars blink around me.
"You wanna go for a walk?" I glance to Zachary's window as he is often my night walking buddy. The window is dark. It is past ten after all.
Orion and I head out down the sidewalk. A couple is talking in a dark car. I think of my mother and how she would not be thrilled to know I'm walking alone at night. I think of the fact I'm in karate and if I could take two people at once. I think of how cool I look in my blue vest that I stole from home. How very New England. And how I use to be told I couldn't wear it because I looked gay. We cross the street. Orion stirs up a bunny rabbit and I nearly jump out of my skin as my arm is ripped sideways and I see a little white tail bounding across the fenced yard. Orion the constellation shines brightly above my head.
"I named you for Orion to ground me," I say. I pause reflecting. "It was the only constellation I could always find. and I think it was a good choice as you do a nice job grounding me."
I see the houses lit up for Christmas, trees aglow in the windows, lights and blown up Santa's in the front yard.
"Someday Orion, I'll get us a house."
Orion is completely on point, trotting, nose and ears erect. Labrador instinct fully activated.
"I tell you what. I will make it my goal to have a house by thirty-two. I'm almost twenty-eighty now, so that gives me four years to save."
I think about this.
"Huh. I may be getting too old to have babies."
"I think I would like to have a baby some day." I picture this.
"But it may not be in the cards for me and if that's the case that's okay too. I mean, I'm not even close to married. But then Carolyn just got married, she's older than me, and she still can have babies." I rattle on. "Yeah. That makes me feel better."
We keep walking. A car is parked across the street with the lights on. I think of spy shows and stakeouts. I think of boyfriends and girlfriends getting in fights. Of drug deals. I see my breath in the night air. We cross to the apartments.
"Well that was just perfect don't you think?"
Orion bounds up the stairs.
"How is my boy?" I ask as I watch him lazily move from his curled position in the back of his crate. As he emerges I just can't help but smile at his little Santa kerchief my mom sent in the mail propped sideways on his body.
"Do I get my wookie hello?" He stretches and starts his usual wookie greeting before moseying over to the door to be let out.
Outside it's quiet, the kind of quiet that makes me think I am the sole person awake on the planet. The moon has a hazy cloud dulling it's brightness, the stars blink around me.
"You wanna go for a walk?" I glance to Zachary's window as he is often my night walking buddy. The window is dark. It is past ten after all.
Orion and I head out down the sidewalk. A couple is talking in a dark car. I think of my mother and how she would not be thrilled to know I'm walking alone at night. I think of the fact I'm in karate and if I could take two people at once. I think of how cool I look in my blue vest that I stole from home. How very New England. And how I use to be told I couldn't wear it because I looked gay. We cross the street. Orion stirs up a bunny rabbit and I nearly jump out of my skin as my arm is ripped sideways and I see a little white tail bounding across the fenced yard. Orion the constellation shines brightly above my head.
"I named you for Orion to ground me," I say. I pause reflecting. "It was the only constellation I could always find. and I think it was a good choice as you do a nice job grounding me."
I see the houses lit up for Christmas, trees aglow in the windows, lights and blown up Santa's in the front yard.
"Someday Orion, I'll get us a house."
Orion is completely on point, trotting, nose and ears erect. Labrador instinct fully activated.
"I tell you what. I will make it my goal to have a house by thirty-two. I'm almost twenty-eighty now, so that gives me four years to save."
I think about this.
"Huh. I may be getting too old to have babies."
"I think I would like to have a baby some day." I picture this.
"But it may not be in the cards for me and if that's the case that's okay too. I mean, I'm not even close to married. But then Carolyn just got married, she's older than me, and she still can have babies." I rattle on. "Yeah. That makes me feel better."
We keep walking. A car is parked across the street with the lights on. I think of spy shows and stakeouts. I think of boyfriends and girlfriends getting in fights. Of drug deals. I see my breath in the night air. We cross to the apartments.
"Well that was just perfect don't you think?"
Orion bounds up the stairs.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Cross Country Training WHAT?
"Our goal is to have it so you don't eat the kids at the dog park, or my ankles."
I look at Orion who's sitting looking up at me in the middle of the tennis courts.
"You know you should review your goals before starting so you have a clear picture of your objective." I pull out a milk bone, my fingers popping out of the finger/mitten combo I have on. It's 8 AM. We're the only living creatures alive and outside on this 23 degree morning. I shrug out of my winter coat, leaving it in the middle.
"Ready?"
Orion's tail flicks rapidly. His eye is on his prize alright. I snap it in half. "Okay, let's go running." I start shuffling a slow shuffle. He trots beside me, eye stuck on the milk bone. We make the width of the court.
"GOOD BOY!" I say enthusiastically and give him the half of a bone. "Okay let's try again." I start shuffling, then somewhat jogging. He dives for my pant leg.
"NO!"
I stop. I stare. There is no warm karma aimed in his direction, no milk bone at my fingertips. "Would you like to try again and this time try harder not to be tempted?"
He barks impatiently.
Repeat.
We make it half way around the court.
"Woohoo! NICE JOB ORION!" I give him a bone.
"Sit. Ready?" Repeat.
On and on we go, sometimes pausing to breath, shed a layer, remind myself this is crucial training, get my leg nearly chewed off, arm too.
Suddenly Orion veers on and plops down in the leaves.
"I take it you're tired?"
No acknowledgement.
"Okay. Me too." I drift off to my bench. Orion resumes rummaging through the leaves that back up against the fence. God only knows what he finds to eat in them but he's content. I rest. Look at my clock. Has it really only been twenty minutes?
"Alright, let's keep going going on our walk buddy."
I look at Orion who's sitting looking up at me in the middle of the tennis courts.
"You know you should review your goals before starting so you have a clear picture of your objective." I pull out a milk bone, my fingers popping out of the finger/mitten combo I have on. It's 8 AM. We're the only living creatures alive and outside on this 23 degree morning. I shrug out of my winter coat, leaving it in the middle.
"Ready?"
Orion's tail flicks rapidly. His eye is on his prize alright. I snap it in half. "Okay, let's go running." I start shuffling a slow shuffle. He trots beside me, eye stuck on the milk bone. We make the width of the court.
"GOOD BOY!" I say enthusiastically and give him the half of a bone. "Okay let's try again." I start shuffling, then somewhat jogging. He dives for my pant leg.
"NO!"
I stop. I stare. There is no warm karma aimed in his direction, no milk bone at my fingertips. "Would you like to try again and this time try harder not to be tempted?"
He barks impatiently.
Repeat.
We make it half way around the court.
"Woohoo! NICE JOB ORION!" I give him a bone.
"Sit. Ready?" Repeat.
On and on we go, sometimes pausing to breath, shed a layer, remind myself this is crucial training, get my leg nearly chewed off, arm too.
Suddenly Orion veers on and plops down in the leaves.
"I take it you're tired?"
No acknowledgement.
"Okay. Me too." I drift off to my bench. Orion resumes rummaging through the leaves that back up against the fence. God only knows what he finds to eat in them but he's content. I rest. Look at my clock. Has it really only been twenty minutes?
"Alright, let's keep going going on our walk buddy."
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Tennis courts
"Okay Orion, the plan is this," I say after being woken up to scratching on my face. Orion mistook my face for the path to China, but all was forgiven once the consciousness surfaced and I realized our nap had turned into 2 hours. "We're going to go down to the tennis courts. I'm going to bundle up cause it's freaking cold. You're going to run around and do dog stuff. I'll pack your tennis ball, but I'm going to knit. I have to get this scarf done by the 17th. Questions?" Orion blinks up at me. I roll over, tossing the feet to the ground, search my room for adequate clothing. Currently my house looks like a wind storm came in and threw my clothes like debris in a tornado. That and bits of paper shreds littered about make for a house for which Martha Stewart would be proud. I find enough layers to suit my New England intelligence at dressing warmly and out the door we go into the three day consistent drizzle.
Down at the tennis courts, I fasten the doors closed and he's off, chasing the tennis ball. I meander to the bench, pull my coat so that it covers my butt from the wet seat, and settle in for some quality knitting. Knitting with gloves on seems a touch more than my skill set I soon discover, and so I hop up, track down the abandoned tennis ball and give it a toss. Yellow lab goes flying after it, goofy as hell with his ears flopping up and down. My phone rings and I answer, tucking it into my wool hat. Ah, it is my best friend. I'm happily chatting, kicking the tennis ball, watching Orion intermittently chase, then ignore the ball to quest for food particles that magically might show up in the leaves against the fence.
"You're kidding, you got in a bike accident? Are you okay?" I'm noting the humor of having moons and stars poke out from my fancy thrift store jeans. Gotta love the adapted thermals, aka, pi's. I look up in time to see Orion flopping towards me.
"OH NO! ORION NO!"
The bright green knitting needle is cockeyed in his mouth. He freezes, crouches down. He thinks this is a game.
"ORION LEAVE IT." I sternly say, excusing myself from my friend on the line.
He shakes his head. The ball of yarn spills out of the bag.
"O-R-Y-O-N!" I stretch each syllable as I march closer.
He bolts. My ball of yarn rolls into the puddles. I watch the line of yarn grow longer and longer. Orion loops back and suddenly he has the yarn wrapped around his ankles. I make a grab for him.
"Oh no, no, no."
This scarf has been through the ringer. Orion already jumped on the table to get the bag so that he could eat the graham crackers I had also left in the bag with the scarf so that I had to pick crumbs out of the scarf for weeks.
"STAY STILL," I demand.
I untangle his legs. Dislodge the knitting from his mouth. Wind up the soggy wet yarn.
"When are you going to cease driving me bat-shit crazy?" I ask.
He saunters off.
Down at the tennis courts, I fasten the doors closed and he's off, chasing the tennis ball. I meander to the bench, pull my coat so that it covers my butt from the wet seat, and settle in for some quality knitting. Knitting with gloves on seems a touch more than my skill set I soon discover, and so I hop up, track down the abandoned tennis ball and give it a toss. Yellow lab goes flying after it, goofy as hell with his ears flopping up and down. My phone rings and I answer, tucking it into my wool hat. Ah, it is my best friend. I'm happily chatting, kicking the tennis ball, watching Orion intermittently chase, then ignore the ball to quest for food particles that magically might show up in the leaves against the fence.
"You're kidding, you got in a bike accident? Are you okay?" I'm noting the humor of having moons and stars poke out from my fancy thrift store jeans. Gotta love the adapted thermals, aka, pi's. I look up in time to see Orion flopping towards me.
"OH NO! ORION NO!"
The bright green knitting needle is cockeyed in his mouth. He freezes, crouches down. He thinks this is a game.
"ORION LEAVE IT." I sternly say, excusing myself from my friend on the line.
He shakes his head. The ball of yarn spills out of the bag.
"O-R-Y-O-N!" I stretch each syllable as I march closer.
He bolts. My ball of yarn rolls into the puddles. I watch the line of yarn grow longer and longer. Orion loops back and suddenly he has the yarn wrapped around his ankles. I make a grab for him.
"Oh no, no, no."
This scarf has been through the ringer. Orion already jumped on the table to get the bag so that he could eat the graham crackers I had also left in the bag with the scarf so that I had to pick crumbs out of the scarf for weeks.
"STAY STILL," I demand.
I untangle his legs. Dislodge the knitting from his mouth. Wind up the soggy wet yarn.
"When are you going to cease driving me bat-shit crazy?" I ask.
He saunters off.
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